Magic School, chapter 3 (Patreon)

Patreon ate my post :( Anyway, a couple of notes. First, Principal Niccolo MacGill is now Principal Niccolo Myren. It fits him better.  Second, the first chapter needs to be broken into two chapters where it is clear that social workers never remember removing Jake from the Johnsons and putting him in emergency placements, and they never remember taking Jake back to them over and over and over despite the abuse.  Huh. I wonder why.  With that, on with the story…

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“Lookie who I ran into having their own lunch,” Birger said with a bright smile, long arms thrown over the shoulders of a woman with graying hair pulled back into a short ponytail and a man with eyes so pale blue they looked like water.  Following them was a man with a thick nose like the old boxer who was the custodian at the grade school.

Jake stood.

“Jake, this is Mrs. Connolly, sponsor for the Gees and the manuscripts teacher. If you have trouble at school, you let her know, and she’ll get you set right up.” Birger beamed at her, all his teeth on show for the stooped woman in a gray tunic and black pants. The only color was a zigzag pattern of purple beads on the fringe. “She’s been at Chumhouse since the place was founded.”

“I’m old, not ancient,” she said with a fond smile for Birger.

“Not more than five hundred,” said Birger with a wink.

“Mages can live for five hundred years?” asked Jake in shock.

“Wonderful. We are condemned to one more idiot Newhouse,” said the dour man who stood behind them. He had a black tunic with black beads and black pants and long black hair he wore in a single braid. Jake’s face grew impossibly warm, especially when Mrs. Connolly and Birger both laughed.

The woman looked down at Jake from over her tiny little glasses that were attached to a sparkly gemstone necklace. “No, Mr. Newhouse, we do not. We do, however, tease each other about getting a little long in the tooth. I must say, I do see a good bit of your father in you, and your mother, too.  I taught them both.”

“You did?” Jake felt a little cheated that everyone else had known his parents, but he didn’t know one thing about them.

“Christopher was a rapscallion if I ever saw one,” she said with a smile.

“He was a menace,” said the man with the mashed nose darkly.

“And this is Mr. Agronivus.” Birger leaned close. “He’s alright for a Ley.”

Jake’s eyes got large and he stared at Mr. Agronivus in horror, but Mrs. Connolly laughed. “I’ve always found you alright, Benedict.”

“Lovely. I’m thrilled to know you approve.”  He pinned Mrs. Connolly with a flat look that made Jake want to hide behind the nearest tree.

“And this,” Birger continued, not noticing Mr. Agronivus’s unhappiness, “Is Mr. Crabshaw.  He’s new this year, and he’s teaching one of my favorite classes, Engagement. You have to learn to engage with this new world of yours. There’s lots of stuff in the magical world that might kill ya or poison ya or eat ya.”

“Unfortunately, nothing has shown such an interest in killing you,” said Mr. Agronivus as he considered Birger the way Mrs. Johnson considered cockroaches on her kitchen floor.

“Now, Benedict,” Mrs. Connolly said with a hint of warning in her voice. He didn’t react, but he also didn’t keep insulting Birger.  And through it all, Birger grinned like Mr. Agronivus was the most amusing person in the world.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Jake.

Mr. Agronivus frowned. “I have elixir ingredients to buy.” He walked away without another word.

Mrs. Connolly sighed. “It’s lovely to see you, young Newhouse. Your parents’ deaths were a tragedy. Simply a tragedy.”

“It seems like lots of folks died,” said Jake quietly.

“Too true,” said Birger.  “Maybe Benedict has to stand up for his Leys being the sponsor and all, but the world would be a good sight better off if them and their arrogance and their ambitions didn’t exist.”

Jake noticed that the other two teachers didn’t argue. In fact, Mrs. Connolly was nodding slowly, the sparkly jewels on her glasses chain sparkling under the artificial lights of the mall.  “There are good ones, but I do wish Niccolo would take a firmer stance with them.”  She cleared her throat and looked at Jake as if only just now remembering that a student was present.  “Of course, there are also many great mages who have studied Societal Studies.  But I have supplies to purchase, as do you, I believe Mr. Crabshaw.”

“I do,” said the man. He peered at Jake with his watery eyes. “I look forward to seeing you in class, Mr. Newhouse. Your family is quite famous for their magical prowess.  Defeating Hardrada is quite an impressive feat of family magic.”

Jake frowned. “How do people know it was my family? I thought Hardrada attacked the mall. Surely there were lots of people around.”

“He did indeed,” said Mr. Crabshaw.  “But every place he walked was left in ruins–blasted enchantments and death and rubble….” His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat and continued.  “The only place untouched was the room where your family had taken refuge. Your parents were dead… not killed… dead… just dead… not a mark on their bodies.  That alone is one of the great mysteries of the magical world.”

“Yep, but then you were there, alive and squallin’,” said Birger almost proudly.

“This is a topic far too morbid for the current company,” Mrs. Connolly said sharply.

“Yes, yes. Of course.  I have shopping to do.  Good day to you, Mr. Newhouse.” Mr. Crabshaw hurried off.

“Be safe,” Mrs. Connolly admonished them, and then she left, too.

“Great woman, Mrs. Connolly. In her day, she could duel with the best of ‘em,” Birger said.  “Don’t know Mr. Crabshaw all that well, but he seems like a real nice fella.”

“Is he a Gee?”

Birger laughed. “He was a Flake, which is almost as good as being in the Gees only they aren’t much for a fight. If you need someone to stand up for you, it's the Gees you want to go to, but the Flakes are special folks. Creative. You won’t find them trying to take over the world, that’s for sure.”

Birger ushered Jake down the wide park-like hallway.  “Every mage who ever tried to take over the world came out of the Leys,” said Birger a little too loudly. “Hardrada did, and he wasn’t the first.”

A woman in a bright green tunic with black beading glared at him from the other side of the garden strip.  Jake was starting to think that Birger was not the most discreet person ever.

“It’s studying the politics. Politics is enough to ruin any man. Now the Flakes like Mr. Crabshaw… those folks are a lot of fun. If you want to find a solution that no one else has ever come up with, you go to them. I loved the classes where we got put in with them.”

Birger stopped and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Your ma… one of her best friends was a Flake.  Rose never did hold with keeping friendships inside the dorms.  Each program has its own dorm, ya know.  She said she knew Gees from living with them, and she wanted to meet everyone else. Never saw a woman with a bigger heart than your ma.” Birger was almost misty eyed as he talked.

“What did she look like?” asked Jake. He’d never seen a picture or known anyone who had met his parents.

“Beautiful,” Birger said. “And strong. She didn’t take lip from anyone.” Birger guided Jake into a huge store called Chalks and Scrolls with books crammed onto shelves that floated from place to place and towers of books stacked in precariously leaning towers and some books that even flew overhead with broad black wings or inched along in cages like inchworms.

Jake stared in wonder  as Birger guided him to a display that was flashing FIRST YEAR CHUMHOUSE! FIRST YEAR CHUMHOUSE!  But then he led them past the display.

“Don’t worry too much about the programs. You’ll see when ya get to Chumhouse,” Birger said. “You’re a good boy, just like your pa, so I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends in the Gees.”

Jake smiled and nodded, but he was confused. If the Leys—students who chose a societal studies program—were that bad, why did they allow the major at school?  And if they weren’t all bad, why did Birger say they were? And if politics made people evil, then wouldn’t lots more non-magical people be evil? Or were they evil and Jake didn’t notice because he didn’t pay much attention to the adults. It was all so confusing.

Jake was going to ask who else had been in the Societal Studies program, but he was distracted by a title scrolling across the spine of a thick book in big letters. Driving out the Pests: How to keep your life free of annoying people through Enchantment, Ritual, and Transmorgrification.  He touched the spine, and the letters stopped scrolling so they were stuck at “...antment, Ritual, and Tra…”

“Principal Myren wouldn’t be amused if he caught ya reading that sort of silliness,” said Birger. He guided Jake away with a hand on his shoulder.  “The used books are this way.”  He pulled Jake toward a pile of dilapidated books with bent covers and stained edges.

“I thought I would get new,” said Jake.

Birger frowned at him, and part of Jake wanted to go along with Birger’s preference for used books.  Then he looked at the sad pile shoved in a shadowed corner, and added, “Lots of students have to get used books, and I don’t want to take the good used books and leave them with something soiled and marked up and hard to read.” Jake’s teacher usually assigned Jake school books like that because all the teachers knew that Hardwin would throw Jake’s books in the mud and Mrs. Johnson would never, ever pay to replace them.

Birger scratched the side of his neck.  He didn’t shave past his chin, so he had stubble that made a rasping noise.  “Well then, I suppose that’s a kind way of seeing things, but wastin’ money is… You know what they say, Waste not, Want not.”

“I won’t waste my money, but I have enough for books, surely.” When that didn’t seem to work, Jake added, “I’m sure my parents would rather me spend money on books than on fancy clothes.”

That worked, and Birger sighed.  “Right then, this way.” He turned his back on the old books and parked himself in front of the first year shelf. At first he tried bending over, but the first year books were on a lower shelf, and he was abnormally tall. To reach the books, he was practically standing on his head.  So Birger dropped to the floor and sat with his long legs sprawled out from one end of the bookshelf to the other so no one else could reach it without physically climbing over him, and most people seemed to want to avoid that.

A sizeable crowd of muttering customers had gathered behind Birger (not that he noticed) before a shopkeeper came over.  “Can I help you find anything?” he asked in a sharp tone that meant he wanted Birger to leave or move or even curl up his legs so someone else could reach the shelf.

Birger didn’t answer. He probably thought the shopkeeper was talking to someone else or maybe because he was looking through each of the first year textbooks, humming to himself like it was the most interesting information in the world.  “We’re looking for the first year books,” said Jake.

The shopkeeper glared at Birger’s back before transferring some of that ire to Jake.  “Your friend is in the right place.”  Jake shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the shopkeeper’s growing frustration.

“Do you have a book on famous mages and which programs they majored in at Chumhouse?” Jake blurted. It was better than continuing to endure the man’s unhappy glare.

“This way.” The man strode off, and Jake hurried after him.  He turned a corner, and the shopkeeper shoved a book into his chest. It had a bright red cover and was as thick as a dictionary.  “Anything else?”

Jake racked his brain. “Is there something that will keep my Normie family from looking at my books?” he asked. He knew if Hardwin saw them, he would tear them to pieces.

The shopkeeper really looked at Jake for the first time.  “Do you have trouble with your Normie relatives?”

Jake shrugged. They weren’t his relatives, but he had trouble with them.

The shopkeeper pulled a small notebook and a long stick out of his pocket. When he wrote, it sounded like chalk across a chalkboard, complete with the horrible screeching noise when the shopkeeper drew a long line under something. It made a shiver run up Jake’s spine. “What’s your budget for a trunk?” the shopkeeper asked.

“I don’t really have one.” Jake knew that Birger would want him to spend as little as possible and save his money, but a trunk was the one school supply that had to last him for two years of junior high and four of high school, although Chumhouse didn’t seem to break it up that way.  He wasn’t going into seventh grade or junior high or middle school. Everything was just marked “first year” or “fourth year” or with the names of various branches of magic. At least Jake assumed that ritual and transmogrification and crafting were all magical subjects.

The shopkeeper looked sharply at Hardwin’s old clothes and cheap shoes.

Jake blushed. “My foster parents don’t spend money on me, but my parents left me mage money.”

The shopkeeper grunted. “Go to Jeffries Journeys for a school trunk, out the door to your left. Give them this paper. They’ll help you find something with normie-be-gone enchantments that will prevent them from noticing your trunk, and something with noweight talismans so you don’t have to drag it.”

Jake took the paper and clutched it.  “Thank you.”

“My son would have been a little older than you if he’d survived the war.  I like to think that someone would have helped him if I wasn’t here,” the man said.  “I suppose your parents…” He stopped.

“They died in the war, and no one told me anything about magic before Birger came and talked about Chumhouse.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes grew larger.  “Nothing?”

Jake shook his head.

“Then you’ll need more than that.  I imagine you don’t know how to use the tranarch or sharpen a chalksil or make a mirror call or set up a slate to copy to a permanent notebook?”

Jake shook his head.

“We have a set of books for normie-borns this way.  Let’s get you some more books and maybe by that time, your idiot friend will have moved on.”  The shopkeeper pressed his lips together in an expression Jake knew well from Mrs. Johnson. Jake followed silently while the shopkeeper collected a larger stack than the first year books Birger had brought to the counter.

“What’s this then?” Birger asked as he eyed the stack suspiciously.

“The child grew up with normies. You should have offered him these titles to help him learn what he needs before he starts school,” the shopkeeper said with a derisive look in Birger’s direction.

“The principal didn’t say nothing about—”

“Probably because he assumed you knew what you were doing when you clearly don’t,” the shopkeeper said with a sniff before he combined the books he’d chosen with those Birger had picked up.  “Give me your book, boy.  No time for dallying with the school shopping crowd needing help.”  The man reached for Jake’s large, red book, and he handed it over.

When the man was adding up the cost, Birger leaned close.  “I bet he was a Ley,” Birger said.  Maybe he thought he was whispering, but he wasn’t.

The man looked up and said proudly, “I was an Alex. Suggesting that everyone in Societal Studies is a leybood and using the term Ley to suggest we all have the same political beliefs is crass and wrong.” He looked at Jake. “Don’t let me or anyone else catch you calling them Leys. Ever since the war, that’s turned into something of an insult. They call themselves Alexes, so you either use that or you say Societal Studies majors.”

“Don’t go telling me how to talk,” Birger said.

The shopkeeper made a face like he’d just sniffed vinegar.  “That’s 53 wampum.”

“That’s more than I thought.” Birger looked worried.

“I can get more money from the bank if I need it,” Jake said, resting a hand on Birger’s arm.  Maybe Birger didn’t like people from the Alexes because they weren’t friendly.  He was a friendly sort, and Jake could understand why he would value that in others.  But if Alex or Fey meant that someone valued being efficient over being kind, Jake wouldn’t mind that.  He would have to read his book about which programs different mages came from and make up his own mind.

“I suppose.” Birger didn’t look sure.

“If that’s all, please move on. It’s difficult for anyone else to get their shopping done when you’re sprawled across half the shelf.”

Birger put a hand on Jake’s shoulder and guided him out of the bookstore while glaring at the shopkeeper the whole time. The second they were back in the open corridor, Birger turned.  “That’s the problem with Feys–they think they know better than everyone else. That’s why they go into politics, because they’re right fond of telling folks what to do and how to do it, but they’re high and mighty for folks that overwhelmingly supported a terrorist.”

“He was rude,” agreed Jake. Helpful, but rude.

“Your pa, he had so many run-ins at school with those people.  He got more than one detention because he was standing up to folks exactly like that.  He pitched some mighty big fits when Feys got up in your momma’s face because she had so much normie in her, and when folks was making Rose cry, nine times outta ten, it was a Fey.”

Parents had always existed more in theory than in reality, so it was odd to think of them as actual people who had gone to school and earned detentions. “That sounds terrible.”

“Principal Myren says that every student can make a choice to follow a better path, but politicians raise their sprogs to be politicians and Fey raise their kids to be proud of that fey blood, and it's the likes of Rose that always got chewed up in the middle because of their meanness.”  He blinked quickly.

“I don’t want to be around anyone mean,” Jake promised him.

Birger patted his shoulder. “You’re a good boy. I always knew Christopher would have kind children. So, what’s left on your list?”

“I need to pick up my clothes, but I need a trunk first.  We should do that. And then we need to buy a telescope and elixir kit and chalksils. What are chalksils?”

“Magical chalk. You write on your slate and your work appears on the teacher’s master slate and if you’ve set up your notebooks, a copy goes to your notebook.”

“So, it’s a computer?” asked Jake.

“A what?”

Jake blinked at Birger and Birger blinked back at him.  “A computer. I type on my computer at school, and my teacher can see my work on her computer.”

Birger grinned.  “Normies. They’re plenty clever, aren’t they? Sometimes it seems like a real shame that magical energy makes their fancy gadgets go all fizzy-pop because it’s amazing what they can do without a lick of magic.  Comtuters.  I’m going to look those up.

“So, stationary shop for chalksils and notebooks.  We coulda gotten them at Chalks and Scrolls, but I didn’t wanna give that… man… one more wampum.  Imagine talkin’ to the son of one of Hardrada’s victims and trying to make it sound like his program wasn’t a big part of how that monster turned out the way he did. If Hardada had been in with the Gees, we woulda taught him right from wrong.”

Jake made a vague “hnn” sound and followed Birger to a stationary stop.  This time he let Birger drag him away from slates that folded themselves up into ruler-sized parcels with a CLACK-CLACK-CLICK chittering and paper that folded itself into birds before flying from place to place. He settled for notebooks that would record copies of his assignments and notes and lots and lots of chalksils in different colors.

They were pencils, only with chalk instead of lead, and the first time Jake had tried to write his name on one of his new school slates, the chalk screamed across the board so loudly that Jake dropped it, snapping the chalk tip off.

Birger considered him for a minute or two. “We should get you even more extras,” he said before picking up a dozen more. A dozen only cost a wampus, after all. Jake insisted he wanted to go to Jeffries Journeys, and Birger gave in with a sigh, but then on the way, Birger stopped at Labyrinths Sport and Game. Jake followed, wondering if Birger didn’t have a son or daughter he needed to buy a gift. That seemed the best explanation for why Birger wandered shelves with rackets that waved themselves and balls that raced each other through wire enclosures and books that featured fantastical sports. Birger bought a set of charmed balls, but Jake didn’t realize why until Birger held the box out for him.

“But…”

“I bought it for you. Your pa had a talent for sports. Not many mages can control magic the way he could.”  The advertising on the box promised to teach him the most popular mage sports—stumbling headball, up-down dodgetag, ulama and kell.  Jake couldn’t even get his thanks out as he tried to express his appreciation.

He finally managed a watery “Thank you,” and Birger shuffled his feet and urged Jake back out into the center of the mall.

Birger had not been as generous at the trunk shop. He wanted to buy a trunk from the pile of near the front door  marked “Chumhouse’s Special.”  However, Jake pulled out the slip of paper the man from the bookstore had given him and walked over to a woman organizing colorful trunks with bright fittings in silver and gold and bronze.

“Excuse me,” Jake said.  “The man in the bookstore said to give you this.”  Jake held it out. The man had handwriting so bad that Jake hadn’t been able to identify a single letter, but the woman took glasses off the top of her head, perched them on the very end of her nose and read it. Halfway through reading it, the woman lost interest in organizing her trunks and focused on Jake.

“So, what sort of trunk do you think you’ll need?” she asked.

Jake shrugged.  “I don’t know much about magic, so I don’t know.”

“He just needs a Chumhouse trunk,” Birger said as he lifted a standard trunk as easily as Jake could pick up a piece of tissue.

“I think that will be a bit heavy for the boy,” she said with a sneer.  While that was unkind, especially to a man who had bought Jake his first real gift, the woman had a point. Jake wouldn’t be able to carry a trunk like that.

“Can’t you just put a noweight talisman on one of these?” Birger asked hopefully.

“They’re too low-quality for the enchantments to hold,” she said sharply.  “Come along.  Let’s find you a proper trunk,” she said as she guided Jake farther into the store.  Birger followed behind, looking even more out of place trying to duck under the trunks hung from the ceiling.  Maybe that’s why Birger wanted to buy one of the standard trunks.  He didn’t exactly fit in the store.

“You can wait up front. I’ll be fine,” Jake offered. He didn’t want Birger uncomfortable.

“No, that’s alright.  I’ll just keep watch,” Birger said.

“Do you have a safe place to study and lay your books out?” The woman waved her wand and stacks of trunks rearranged themselves.

“No,” Jake said. He had a board that he propped on the windowsill on one side and an old radiator that didn’t work on the other. It worked well enough, but if Jake left books out on it, Hardwin would be destroy them, and he had bought too many books to hide easily.  Jake had the box with the ball game, but Birger was carrying overflowing bags from Chalks and Scrolls.

Dozens of trunks flew away toward the back of the store.

“Are you a reader?”

“Um… yes?” Jake guessed.  He liked to read.  The library had always been a safe haven for him, but he wasn’t the best reader. He didn’t have much time for it because he had a lot of chores.

“Not that enthusiastic, so I assume a standard 250 book library will suffice.”

“Two hundred and fifty books?  I could never read that many!” Jake exclaimed.

“You’re not bound for the Techies or the Merlins, then.  We have a Merlin special with room for three thousand books,” the woman said. “If you were going to focus on Magical Studies, you would have needed every inch of that space.” Jake couldn’t even imagine reading that many books.  He wasn’t sure how he was going to read all the books that he had bought with all the chores Mrs. Johnson was sure to make him do once he went back to their house.  Jake glanced over at Birger and wondered if Birger would help with that.  He had been nice enough to buy Jake a gift, and Mrs. Johnson was always nicer to adults than to Jake.

“Do you need cooking space in the trunk?”

“Cooking space? In a trunk?”

She gave him a smile.  “Mages can make a trunk much larger inside.  I can sell you a trunk that has a whole apartment inside—one you can climb down into with a ladder.”

“Really?” Jake asked in wonder.

“Now here, he don’t need that,” Birger protested.

“Of course not. That’s the sort of trunk an adult gets so he isn’t trapped having to sleep in a normie space.” She looked at Jake.

“I don’t need that,” Jake agreed.  Maybe it would be nice, but he couldn’t imagine Mr. and Mrs. Johnson being happy if they found he had crawled into a trunk to sleep.  Jake knew better than to borrow trouble.  “And I don’t need cooking facilities, either,” he said.  The smell of cooking would attract Hardwin.

She nodded.  “Right then, I’ll just get you a cold storage.  That way you can keep juice and fruit cold. Maybe a preserving chamber for snacks. That will keep food at whatever temperature it is when you put the food in it, and will stay the food fresh for up to a year. The pukwudgies won’t deliver to you in the dorms. So, what else? You are too young to have a potions compartment.  Those can be dangerous.”

Puck-wud-gie.  Jake was going to look that up as soon as he was alone with his books. “I don’t want something dangerous,” Jake agreed.

She chuckled.  “Then you aren’t going to join the Slacks—the general studies students.  Those kids care more about having fun and winning at sports to apply themselves, and they seek out any danger they can find.”

“Hey, I’ll have ya know I was a Slack,” Birger protested.

Huh. Leys called themselves Alexes. Slacks called themselves Gees.  Jake wondered if every major had an unkind nickname in addition to the one they called themselves, and which was Birger giving him?  Calling someone a Flake didn’t sound like a compliment, even if Birger seemed to like the Creative Studies students.

The woman turned and studied Birger for a moment.  “Do I remember you from Chumhouse?”

Birger stood up a little straighter. “Could be. I’m Assistant Supervisory Deputy Head Groom.”

“Birger,” she blurted out. “You’re Birger.  Odin’s beard. You’re the idiot who lost control of the sylphs during my fifth year. You are! Odin’s sweet blood.” She stared at Birger, mouth open, and Birger slowly turned a brilliant red.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Invisible flying creatures that can sting like jellyfish. It was that bad,” she snapped. She turned to Jake.  “That’s my point.  The stables at Chumhouse have everything from Diomedemares that eat flesh to piasas to falhofnirs, and the Ring Forest around the school is home to centaurs and camazotzs and sylphs.”

“It’s not that dangerous, and there hasn’t been a camazotz in ages,” Birger protested.

“Slacks,” she said in a tone that was almost fond.  Apparently, Birger’s house had a reputation, and one that made Jake a little leery.  He’d learned early to avoid putting himself in dangerous situations, especially when walking home from school was dangerous enough with Kevin and Hardwin and the others playing Whack-a-Jake. She turned back to Jake.  “What’s your favorite color?”

“I like all the colors,” Jake said, not sure how to answer that. Hardwin sometimes got to pick things based on the color of it, but Jake never did.

“Then let's stick with something neutral, something that will fit in any of the programs without clashing, although I am fond of red myself. Magical Studies, you know. But we’ll find something that would fit into any of the dorms, depending on where you decide to go.” She waved her wand and a gray trunk with a pattern almost like a snakeskin but more angular flew out of the middle of the pile and landed at their feet.

“His parents were both Gees,” Birger said, his voice edging toward anger, “and Jake will be too.”  Birger’s anger made Jake uncomfortable, and more than that, he wondered if Birger would stop liking him if he went into the Merlins or Alexes.  He already knew what Birger thought of the latter.

“What’s Magical Studies like?” asked Jake.

“Those of us who studied magic itself became a pretty close-knit group.  When you cast magic with others, you tie yourselves together. You become more than just the sum of the parts. Even today I can call on my school friends, and they’ll always help me out.”

“The same is true of the Gees,” Birger grumbled.

“You won’t find a Hunter Dijarl or a Christopher Newhouse in with the Merlins,” she said derisively.

“Christopher Newhouse?” Jake blurted.

“What a bully. Of course, what happened to him was tragic, and he was never as bad as Hunter Dijarl who turned out to follow Hardrada but still. The Gees and the Techies and even the Flakes have quite the problem with bullying.  The Merlins never have. We respect magic too much to turn against magic users.” She smiled at Jack, obviously not realizing that she had upset him.  “We take care of our own,” she said in a tone almost like she thought he was a Merlin already.

“Christopher was a right proper mage and a great man,” Birger protested.  Jake noticed that Birger didn’t defend Hunter Dijarl.  So maybe not all the bad mages came from the Alexes.

Madam Journeys rolled her eyes.  “Of course he was,” she said in a tone that made it clear that she disagreed.  “Of course, the Alexes are equally close-knit,” she continued, “but that house is more interested in making a name for themselves. They’re ambitious and quick to get defensive if they feel offended. Merlins will forget to pull their pants up in the morning if they start reading about an interesting bit of magic.”

“I think I want the Merlins,” Jake said.  The woman smiled at him, but Birger just looked confused.

“So,” the woman said, “let’s go over this trunk.  It has four compartments.”  She pointed out four stones on the front.  “This is the wardrobe.  She pressed the first stone and then reached for the trunk latch. Instead of flipping open like a normal trunk, the lid lifted into the air higher and higher until it was a standard closet height, tall enough that Jake would have to stand on tiptoe to reach the rod.  “Wave your hand right or left to cycle through clothing that isn’t showing or to reach the drawers,” she said as she demonstrated.  After two waves of her hand, a tall chest of draws slid into view.

“Wow,” Jake breathed.  He could put all his clothes in the trunk and wouldn’t fit even a fraction of the space.

She waved her hand toward the ground, and the top slid back down into place.  “The second compartment is for supplies.” She tapped the second stone and opened the trunk.  The lid lifted again, this time showing dozens of cubby holes.  Some were tall and some tiny.  She waved her hand to the side and bookshelves appeared and then racks waiting for test tubes and glass boxes.  “Elixir supplies fit here. You only want to take the supplies you need for the brew you’re going to do that day. That will minimize the chance that you’ll accidentally contaminate your supplies by carrying all of them. There is dedicated space for scales, abacus, runes stones, carving tools, telescopes, anything you might need for school.”

“Carving tools?” Jake didn’t know how carving was a school subject.

“Techies have a class open only to them called Elektric Runes where they try to recreate normie tech using rune languages.  Even if you’re not a Techie, you might still take Runes and Hieroglyphs.  That’s as close as you can come to crafting classes where you’ll learn to make talismans and enchantments for trunks like these,” she explained before closing the trunk again. “You have to carve them into objects, so you’ll need a variety of cutting tools for different materials.  The third section is your food storage.”  She tapped the third stone.  “This is simple cold storage and stasis storage,” she explained, showing him how to reach the two sections by waving his hand, much like the sliding wardrobe.  “And finally, this is your desk.”  She tapped the fourth stone and opened the trunk.  Jake leaned closer, but there was only a flat surface.  Jake supposed he could use it as a desk if he sat cross-legged in front of the trunk, but it was a disappointment.

She grabbed a leather strap at the front of the flat area and pulled.  And pulled.  And pulled more.  It was like watching a piece of paper unfold.  A huge desk with slot organizers for his slates and round organizers for his chalksils and a wide work surface appeared. A gray block fell out from under the main desk and rearranged itself into a proper chair with comfortable-looking gray cushions. Along the back of the desk sat a wide shelf that would hold at least a dozen books.  It was wonderful.

Jake smiled and stared in awe.

“I take it this is the trunk for you?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” Jake agreed.

“This is a deluxe model—twenty-two quachtili, fifteen wampum.”

That was more than Jake’s whole clothing bill, even with the tailored shirts and spell-proof pants and all the enchantments. A whisper of guilt gnawed at him when he considered spending that much, but he wanted it. He wanted this trunk more than he wanted anything else in his whole life. “I’ll have to go back to the bank, but we can do that, can’t we?” Jake looked at Birger, desperate in his hope.

For a second, it seemed like Birger would say no, but then he sagged.  “Fine,” he agreed, “we can do that.”

“Thank you!” Jake exclaimed.  He turned to the woman. “And thank you, Miss…”

“Madam Journeys,” she said.

“Thank you,” Jake beamed.  “It’s perfect.”

“Of course, dear. We do pride ourselves in outstanding charmwork and quality beyond reproach. All the spells have a two-lifetimes guarantee, so even if they fail your children, we’ll redo the spellwork for free.”

“We’ll go get the money and be right back.”

“If you touch the trunk first, I’ll get all the enchantments set to you so only you can open it,” she offered.  Jake followed her directions, and the trunk clicked loudly.

The walk back to the ATM was quiet–uncomfortably so. Maybe Birger was upset that Jake didn’t think his Chumhouse’s major was the best. Mrs. Johnson was like that. She was only nice to people when they said she was the best cook or the most helpful parent chaperone, even when she wasn’t.  Jake didn’t want to think that his first friend in the magical world would be like Mrs. Johnson, but he wasn’t sure.

After they got the money, they picked up the trunk, and then it was a matter of retracing their steps.  Birger didn’t say anything when the assistant at the clothing store helped him load gray tunics and packs of underwear into his trunk.  Then they finished the last bit of shopping and headed back to the wand store.

Mr. Burton still had the “closed” sign turned to face the outside, but as Birger and Jake walked up to the door, it opened a crack and a wizened hand reached through with a yellowish wand with long streaks of brown and a black hexagonal cap on the butt end.

“HERE! TAKE IT, JUST JAKE. TAKE IT.  BEGONE WITH YOU! BEGONE I SAY!”  The arm reached out far enough to push the wand into Jake’s chest, and he took it. When someone shoved something into his chest, that seemed like simple instinct, but the moment his hand closed over the wand, he felt something beautiful and powerful and old and dangerous.

It was like watching a tornado on television or standing outside in a blizzard as the wind stole his breath. It was hurricane force winds and midnight on the coldest night of the year.  Jake was startled out of his reveries when the door slammed–again, so hard that the whole wall shook.

Birger sighed.  “Burton gets stranger every year.  Normies have a saying–that someone is mad as a hatter. It’s because the glues that hatmakers used to use made them lose their minds a bit.  But most mages say a person is weird as a wandmaker.  It’s not healthy, being around so many powerful ingredients.”

Jake stood with his wand in hand, not sure where to put it.  He should put it in his trunk, but he wanted to keep touching it. However, when Birger encouraged him to open the trunk and then warned him about not being allowed to practice magic on his own, Jake forced himself to uncurl his fingers and set his precious wand into the long slot on the side of his desk that Birger pointed out.

Birger was still in a foul mood when he offered to buy Jake dinner, even though it was getting late.  If Mrs. Johnson didn’t know to expect him back tonight, Jake would be lucky to get leftovers, and he didn’t feel like a dinner of all vegetables, so he accepted. They sat in the food court, and Jake had curry with rice and poutine and arepas. It was a wonderful, horrid mishmash of food, and Jake would have felt guilty about ordering so much, but Birger had literally ordered twice as much and he kept stealing fries off Jake’s poutine plate.

Jake watched Birger eat a whole fried fish as he planned his next move.  Birger said he was taking Jake back to Mrs. Johnson and that she knew about magic, even if she didn’t have any. But magic or not, Mrs. Johnson would expect Jake to help get the chores done because she couldn’t control Hardwin.

Magic wouldn’t make Mrs. Johnson give him fewer chores.  But Birger might.  However, he needed to handle this in a way that wouldn’t make Birger even more upset.  “I am so excited about Chumhouse.  Do you think the principal is in my book on famous mages?” Jake asked carefully.

Birger’s frown vanished.  “Course he is.  Principal Myren a great man,” Birger said enthusiastically.  “Greatest wizard of our age. Even Hardrada was smart enough to avoid tangling with the principal.”

Jake smiled.  “I want to impress him.”

Birger gasped as though shocked.  “Course he’s going to be impressed. You’re Jake Newhouse. He talks about you, ya know.  He’ll tell everyone how it was the Newhouse family magic that saved countless lives from Hardrada and how you carried that spell. Sure, you were too young to cast, but your folks gave their lives to power the spell, leavin’ you the only one who could have carried it.  You might not understand how amazing that is, but there isn’t an adult mage alive who isn’t impressed with you. There’s been whole books written where people try to dissect the magic that might have happened that night.”

“Um… really.” Jake didn’t like the sound of that.

Birger stood up and shouted at the half-full food court.  “Hey!”  All conversation ceased.  “Have y’all heard of the Newhouse family? Jacob Newhouse?”

Most of the customers looked at Birger like he was insane, even after he sat down again. However, Jake could tell from their expressions that they did know his family. A pair of women near him even said, “What sort of fools wouldn’t know the Newhouses?” before scoffing at Birger.

Birger grinned at him.

Time to change the subject. “But I sometimes slack off and don’t do the homework I should,” he said, which wasn’t exactly true. He’d be happy to do homework if it got him out of cooking for the family or shoveling snow or scrubbing the garbage cans because Mrs. Johnson could smell a sour stench that turned her stomach. “Could you come home with me and tell the Johnsons that I need to spend at least three hours every afternoon working on my books? I know I could get caught up then.”  Jake gave Birger a hopeful look.

He frowned. “I don’t rightly know that’s a good idea. I’m not particularly good at blending in when it comes to normie areas. I was planning on leaving you at the subway.”

“By myself?” Jake asked, slightly horrified.  “With a big trunk and this late?  How would I get from the subway station to the house? What if I get mugged?”

“The trunk has noweight enchantments, and normies shouldn’t even notice it,” Birger said.

“But what if someone stops me? What if I get lost?” Jake had been left to find his way through New York on his own, but he needed Birger to tell the Johnsons that they had to let him study. His sixth grade work wasn’t important to them, but Birger had to convince them that Principal Myren expected him to prepare.

“I suppose you’re right seeing as how you’re barely bitter than a chitlin. You’re small for your age,” said Birger after a second.  “Maybe that would be best.”

Jake nodded.

“Right then. But I don’t want to take that tiny normie subway again. Now that you have a wand, I can show you how to use the public transarch system.  As an adult, you’ll be able to cast your own arches, but for now, practice on the public system will make learning to cast your own easier down the road. I always preferred the arches over shadowing. There’s something unnatural about shadowing, if you ask me.”

Shadowing. Puck-wud-gee. Ulama. Sylphs. There was so much he needed to know. Jake hoped that Birger could convince the Johnsons to give him time to study because this was a new world, and Jake wanted to know everything about it. Besides, there had to be some benefits to being a mage, and tricking Mrs. Johnson into not giving him chores would be a great start.